


Black and blue

by StonerPlato



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Physical Abuse, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-09-24 02:51:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9696461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StonerPlato/pseuds/StonerPlato
Summary: From the time he was a little boy, Jughead's life has not been easy. As his best friend Archie is no longer there to support him, he struggles to cope with the violent abuse of his father, and with the painful memories that fill his head.





	1. Chapter 1

Jughead’s lower lip trembled as he tried to look his father in the eye without expressing the terror he felt. He was dangerously close, his drunken red face contorted with anger a few inches away from his son’s. Jughead’s body tensed up as he expected his father to pounce on him at any moment.   
\- You worthless shit, I take you in and that’s what you do?! Are you fuckin kidding me?!  
Jughead anxiously tried to formulate some kind of sentence that would calm his dad down; his words felt like gibberish in his mouth.   
\- Dad, I’m sorry, I’ll fix it, right now, I have the tools, I…  
\- Shut the fuck up!  
Jughead gasped as his dad’s right hand suddenly circled his throat and slammed him against the wall, his head bashing in the corner of a metal frame as he lost his breath. His hands desperately clutched to his dad’s hand as he looked at him panic, raspy breathing struggling to come out.   
\- Dad, ple-ase… I’m so-o-rry.  
\- Fuckin worthless idiot!  
His hand squeezed tightly around Jughead’s throat, cutting the last bit of air out of him. Terror and burning pain filled Jughead as he stared with panicked eyes at his dad. For a short moment, he thought his father might kill him.  
Just as his vision started to blur and his eyes filled with tears, his dad kneed him with full force in the stomach, letting go of his neck. A sharp intake of raspy breath shot through Jughead’s burning throat as he slid against the wall to the floor, the metal frame crashing on top of his head. The sharp corner digging in his skull made him shriek in pain.  
Clutching his stomach with one trembling arm while covering his throbbing head with another, wheezing and coughing, Jughead waited for another kick, another punch. The pain clouded his head as tears clouded his eyes. Before he could come to his senses or could catch his struggling breath, he felt another brutal kick in the stomach.  
\- You pathetic fuck, next time you fuck my shit up, I will fuckin kill you, you hear me?!  
His dad grabbed him by the hair, brutally pulling him up by head as Jughead struggled to get his feet on the ground; YOU HEAR ME?!  
Jugheads tried to speak through his wheezing breath as tears started to uncontrollably roll down his cheeks; I- I hea-ear yo-you.  
A disgusted grunt; he finally let go of Jughead’s hair as quickly as he grabbed it, but not before pushing him back will full force against the wall. A pained shriek escaped Jughead’s lips as his head bashed once more against the wall. Excepting another blow, he quickly wrapped his arms around his head and brought his knees up to his chin, holding his breath.   
A few second passed; paralysed with fear, Jughead heard the door slam behind his father. He didn’t move for another minute, trembling as he slowly recovered his breath. Pain shot from his bleeding head, his throat, his throbbing lungs and his stomach; it felt like his entire body was on fire. As the silence settled in, Jughead could finally breathe; his dad was really gone.   
Slowly unwrapping his arms from his legs and clutching his stomach, Jughead closed his eyes and leaned back again the wall, still trembling: Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…pull yourself together. You’re pathetic, don’t cry… 

He found himself wishing that Archie would walk in; angry at this thought, he tried to shake it away. He had never really let him see him in this state anyway, never let him know the extend of how bad it really was, how terrified he was to get home everyday. He’d rather not sleep and stay at Pop’s all night to make sure his father had solidly passed out.  
Now that Archie and him were no longer friends, he found himself wishing he could blurt out all those things he kept hidden so Archie would comfort him.

Archie had always been there for him since they were five years old: through his mother’s illness and death, all through the horrible year Jug spend in a foster care center. Even though Jughead refused to talk about any of it, never answering any questions directly, he always felt like he had Archie’s caring presence and unrequited support. From the age of six he knew he could climb through the window and find a place of comfort, where he was safe from pain. He would just climb under the covers and they would talk until they feel asleep, about anything but his troubles. When he had nightmares and woke up screaming, Archie would just hug him until he fell asleep again, never teasing him about it. And in the morning, Archie’s dad greeted him with breakfast like his presence was normal, even welcome.   
Jughead always feared it was too much for Archie, because it would be too much for anyone. He worried that he would get freaked out or fed up and leave, which is why he avoided to talk about any of it. That and how ashamed he was for being so weak, for being so needy, for being such a freak. Especially when it came to what happened with his uncle…  
Fuuuuuck stop thinking about that! Go away… - Jughead winced.

Archie had tried to get things out of him many times, especially since Jug moved in with his dad at the age of 11, but he always got away with a sardonic comment, a witty remark or just by plainly ignoring the question. Even the bruises got explained away with a laugh or with an absurd excuse. Except that time Archie had pulled up his shirt accidently while they were joking around last year, shortly before they stopped being friends. The extent of the black and blue marks covering his back, ribs and stomach did not leave any room for jokes, especially not with the pained shriek that had escaped Jug’s lips as Archie jokefully lifted the shirt up. Archie had stopped and stared at his friend in disbelief as he angrily pulled his shirt down, avoiding Archie’s eyes.

-Fuck you, you perv! Im not meat on a stick. - His nervous tone did not fool Archie.   
-Dude, what the fuck!? How did this happen?   
-Stairs, don’t let them fool you. Slippery motherfuckers.  
\- Jug, seriously…   
Jughead abruptly got up from the bed and when to sit down on the office chair, turning his back to Archie to lean over the open laptop.   
\- I don’t think we will get this paper done tonight, will we? You’ll have to use your charming looks to get us out of it.  
\- Jug, was it your dad?   
Jughead froze. Archie’s tone was worried – he was not about to let that one go. He’s had his suspicions before about his dad violent outburst. Like that time Jug got smacked so hard in the head when he was 12 that he needed a hearing aid. He had refused to tell Archie how this has happened, but Archie knew, and Jug knew that he knew. Jug’s stubborn silence and cover-up humor did not fool him. The day the hearing aid got put in, Archie was waiting for Jug at the doctors with a beanie hat and an ice cream, grinning with all his teeth. Same old beanie hat. His shiny smile and silent support was all Jug had ever counted on, the only certitude in his broken life.  
\- No fuckin Santa Claus, that son of a bitch. Forgot to leave the cookies out.  
Trying to ignore his pounding heart, Jug leaned over his laptop and started ranting.  
\- Gonna at least start this intro, or we will be here all night. So Cuba, communism…research question…think Marx would be impressed with their version of it? More interestingly, would Santa Claus have gone to Cuba? He does look like Marx.. too bad CocaCola got a hold of him. Great old capitalism.  
Jug startled at Archie grabbed the chair and rolled it to the side of the bed, turning it around to face him.  
\- Jug, look at me.  
Jug glanced at Archie; his concerned face made him nervous. He quickly looked away, looking uncomfortable as an awkward smirk appeared on his lips.   
-Arch, let it go. I’m fine.   
– You’re not fine Juggie, your black and blue. Your dad just beat the living shit out of you! I’ve seen your bruises before, this is not the first time... Please.   
Jughead felt tense and nervous, for some reason even scared. He just wanted to Archie to drop it, but at the same time, the caring felt so good. He could not let himself go and was terrified of breaking down in front of him. The night before had been frightening; his dad had not stopped kicking and yelling for a good half-hour after Jug had woken him up screaming from a nightmare. He had barely been able to get out of bed that morning. Every step was torture and he was pretty sure something serious was up with his ribs. He has missed first and second period and the only reason he could move right now was due to the combination of a heavy pain killer and indica weed.   
Jughead felt his lower lip tremble and his eyes filling with tears that he struggled to keep back. He could not, would not break down. Archie’s hand gently touched Jug’s shoulder; his voice worried and caring.  
– Hey.. please, look at me. It’s me, Juggie. I love you. You’ve got to talk to me. This is really bad. I know you’re afraid of going back to foster care, but this can’t keep happening.   
-I’m fine man – Jug muttered.  
-That time with your ear… it was him too, right?   
Archie’s hand moved from his shoulder to Jug’s cheek, making him shudder slightly. Human touch made him nervous, but Archie’s was the only he could bare. He hesitantly looked back into Archie’s concerned eyes.  
\- I don’t know man… Jughead hated the tremble in his pathetic voice.  
\- What happened Juggie?  
The words got stuck in his throat. He fought hard to keep the tears back as they threatened to spill: he could feel them clinging to his lashes.  
\- How often does this happen?  
\- Its not… its fine. – his voice felt broken. He hated the way he sounded.  
\- Its not fine! Have you seen yourself?! This is not right. Stop looking away Jug.   
A sharp knock on the door startled them both: Archie’s dad voice came through.  
-Betty is here to see you.  
Jug ripped away from Archie and promptly got up despite Archie’s protestations.   
-Hey wait!  
Archie quickly got up to keep him from leaving. His body’s bumped into Jughead’s as he was making a dash for the door.   
Jughead grabbed his sides with trembling hands, bending in half and whimpering despite his best efforts to stay quiet. His face contorted with pain.  
-Fuuuckk ahhhh….  
-Juggie are you okay? Betty exclaimed in her soft voice as she walked through the door, quickly reaching out to support him.  
His friends grabbed his arms on each side and sat him down on the bed. Clutching his stomach, Jughead moaned while tears rolled down his cheek.  
\- Fuuuuckkk…hmmmmm…  
\- What happened?! Betty exclaimed.  
\- Jug, we are going to the clinic right now.  
\- I’m fine! Ahhhh…  
\- Ok let’s go now. Betty, grab my keys?  
Hearing Archie’s words, Jug felt overcome by a sudden panic; return to an abusive uncle, or in bullying foster care… The memories rushed through his head at nauseating speed.   
-Im fine! I just need to go to bed – leave me alone - he harshly pushed his friends away and tried to put on a face that didn’t betray his pain. The sudden panic gave him strength. He had to pull it together. He angrily wiped his tears on his sleeve, refusing to look at his friends.  
-Come on Jug. You need to be checked out.  
\- Archie’s right, Juggie!   
Their concerned voices warmed Jug’s heart, but also gave him profound anxiety. He did not know how to handle their caring and did not want to open Pandora’s box as he feared he would break down completely. Before anyone could react, he tore away from them and grabbed his bag.  
-Im fine, jeeze. It was just a bad cramp, Im not dying. – he managed to smirk as he made a dash for the door.  
-Dude, what the fuck? Where you going? At least stay here!  
\- Im bored now - better bring your sexy face tomorrow for that paper excuse! – he shouted as he passed the door without looking back.  
\- Jug, don’t!  
\- Jug, you alright son? Archie’s dad froze in the staircase as Jug rushed past him, staring at the floor.  
\- Goodnight Andrews-Cooper! – he hoped the tremor in his voice wasn’t too obvious as he shut the front door behind him.  
A few steps into the neighboring street and he slowed down, overcome by a wave of pain. To his surprise, no one had followed him – the thought made his heart ache. He kept hoping Archie would turn the corner, come support him as he crouched over in pain ands suppressed a sob; but he was the one who had pushed him away. Maybe it was better that way.  
That night, he slept – or at least tried to sleep - on a bench in the park, too terrified to go home after what happened the previous night. His dad was having a terrible week at work – and he knew that tonight was a nightmare night, he could feel it. If he woke him again tonight, he would for sure end up in the hospital.  
Over the next few days, Jughead avoided Archie, not answering the many phone calls and staying out of his way at school. Although Archie tried to bring the subject up a few times, Jug kept shutting him down with sardonic comments and the whole thing had slowly blown over. Jughead wished Archie had probed more, had pushed through his shell; but he could not blame Archie for his own distancing. He hated how pathetic he felt.  
A few months later, they were no longer friends. Another story, another blow.

Thinking back to that time as he sat curled up on the floor, Jug found himself wishing he had broken in tears then in Archie’s room, that he had let him had wrap his arms around him, kissed his head, held him tight. The thought of his comforting words, his caring eyes, his gentle touch was the only thing he could think of that would make him feel better. 

But Archie was no longer in the picture, he had broken his heart into a million pieces without even knowing it.

As Jughead sat on the living room floor, still trembling in fear and pain, a knock on the door broke the heavy silence.


	2. Chapter 2

As the knock on the door echoed in the empty living room, Jughead suddenly felt dizzy, his head pounding nauseatingly hard. Before he could lay down, his vision went blank and he rapidly drifted into unconsciousness.  
The next thing he knew, Jughead jerked awake, sweating and aching, on the living room floor. He confusingly looked around for a few seconds, trying to gather his thoughts. Daylight was streaming through the dirty window, particles floating in the light in front of his blinking eyes. Dazed and confused, it took Jughead a few seconds before he started to feel vivid pain shooting through his body.  
Groaning, Jughead tried to raise himself on his elbow, which made him wince in pain. His head was pounding and his neck felt sore and tight. Jug shivered at the sudden memory of his father strangling him – he must have been within seconds of passing out.  
His dad must have come home late and passed out in his bedroom, as usual. Glancing at the clock on the way, Jug realized how late it already was; first period had just started. He shivered as he suddenly remembered what date it was today. Remembering that day for day, five years ago, his mother had passed.  
Jug tried to get himself up again; he could not stay here, as the memories of his mother would engulf him. The need for a distraction was strong enough to ignore the soreness in his body as he slowly got to his feet. That, and secretly hoping Archie would remember what date it was. That it would warrant him some attention, that his old friend would actually reach out for him.  
Fucking pathetic –Jughead was angry at himself. He wished he could stop feeling such pain about the past. But there he was, drowning in feelings and vivid memories of his mother, and everything that happened after that. 

His mother's illness was all he could remember from his early childhood, like a veil covering all memories, good and bad. Schizophrenia, episodes of extreme paranoia. He was always on edge of what would happen next. Sometimes, for a few days, everything seemed normal. Nice even; she would cook amazing meals and shower him with love and affection. But Jughead learned very early on not to trust these moments, nor to lean on a false feeling of security. He knew how fast his mother could change. Watching her bake muffins one morning, then coming home after school to find her irrationally mumbling and pacing. Sometimes it would get more violent, more scary: frenetic gesturing, long rants that Jughead struggled to follow. She often grabbed him by the shoulders and stared at him intensely, insisting on some absurd demand or recommendation. Jughead would most often trap himself in his room, reading and writing – and his heart would stop whenever his mom knocked on the door.  
His mother's state had progressively worsen over the years, to the point where Jug would spend most nights either at Archie's or curled up in the tree house. He would worry about her; she would be so upset when he hadn't been home a while, threatening to cut herself if he was gone for too long. One evening when he was nine, he came home to find her locked in her room, moaning and whimpering. He spent hours going back and forth, anxiety ridden, knocking on the door to try to get her to come out. Later that night, the door suddenly burst open and she rushed out, screaming frenetically. Jughead couldn’t quite make out her words, but could tell that she was convinced her son was an evil person. She grabbed him by the neck and dragged him to the toilet, immerging his head over and over again as he was too weak and frightened to escape. He swallowed water and choked, and it felt like hours before she finally stopped and curled up on herself, moaning and whimpering. Just as Jughead got up and tried to run away, she started viciously scratching at his back like a cat trying to claw through his skin. He curled up on himself, shaking and begging her to stop.  
-Mommy please, mommy, stop!! - he remembers the terror that filled his heart, the confusion that clouded his mind and even the feelings of guilt. He still feels pinges of guilt for not being able to help her.  
The second his mother let go of him, he had rushed to Archie's house, running all the way there. Archie's father opened the door on his frail trembling figure, big pearly tears running down his cheeks.  
-Hey Buddy, what's wrong?  
Jug stuttered as he tried to explain: where could he even start? He did not really understand what had happened. The pounding heart in his chest filled his ears. His back was burning and he could feel blood soaking the back of his shirt.  
-I-I-I...  
He burst into tears right there on the doorstep. Archie's dad did not need any explanations. - Oh Juggie, you poor thing, he said, bending down to cradle him.  
Archie's father had always been weary of Jug's mother, but seemed at once surprised and heartbroken when he saw Jughead's bleeding back, covered in scratches, and his soaked hair. Jughead vividly remembers the comforting smell of grillcheese filling the kitchen as he sat on the kitchen table. Archie was fast asleep upstairs; to this day, he probably did not know what had happened that night.  
The next morning, Archie's father had called social services, probably after much debating. An uncle he barely knew, apparently his legal guardian in case of parental crisis, came to pick him up the next day. The next year had been the worse of all...  
After a few months at his uncles and a year in foster care, eleven-years old Jughead returned to live with his mother. She was apparently doing better, having undergone various treatments. At first, Jug was terribly happy to be back with her, especially after everything that had happened to him that past year. Unfortunately, Jug's hopes for a happy home with his healthy mother were quickly shattered. It didn't take two days before she had a first outburst. Terrified of going back to his uncle or to foster care, Jug spent the next year hiding all the insanities he had to go through.  
Until this cool February day, exactly five years today. He came home with the usual lump in his chest: How would his mother feel? Would she make any sense? Would she be scary? He walked into the house, clutching his backpack nervously. His mother was not in the kitchen, nor in the living room. Climbing the stairs with the usual apprehension, Jug was not ready for what had come next. Who could ever be ready for something like that?  
The bathroom door was closed. One short knock; Mom you there? No answer.  
He opened the door, slowly.  
Blood. Spilling from the bathtub.  
His mother's livid face leaning on the side of the tub.  
He remembers shaking her while screaming, drenched in her blood, desperately trying to pull her out.  
It was too late.  
He had not spoken for days, feeling paralyzed. He remembered sleeping in Archie's bed all day and night, not moving, not saying a word. At night, he was struck with horrible nightmares, nightmares that were really memories. He would wake up screaming and sobbing, and Archie would cuddle up to him with his worried freckled face nuzzling against him. He also remembers Archie's father comforting voice and caring touch.  
A few weeks later, Jughead's father had come back in town for the first time in six years, and had reluctantly agreed to take him in. Jug had only seen him only a few times in his life, as he walked out on his mom early on. He had barely any memories of him, good or bad. The first few months, his father had been quite nice to him...  
***  
Jughead shook the memories away as he gazed into the mirror, staring at the bruises surrounding his neck. His face was pale, his eyes swollen and red. He always looked especially bad on his mother's death anniversary.  
It was the first time Archie was not on his side on this painful day. Not that he everwanted to talk about it, but horrible feelings engulfed him every year, memories taunting him even more vividly. Archie had always paid special attention to him, avoiding the subject but paying careful attention to his gloomy silence, or to the occasional tremor in his voice. Every year, he would bring Jug out for a feast to put his mind off things. He had never let him down, not even for the girls he spent so much time and energy chasing.  
Jughead shuddered as he tried to put a shirt over his bruised body, wincing at he raised his arms. He couldn’t breathe without feeling a sharp pain in his lungs and abdomen. Today of all days would be especially hard, he thought as he fought back tears.  
He would walk through the hallways like a shadow as he had been the past few months, avoiding the bullies and his old friends at once. He did not want to admit to himself how much his insecurities daunted him as Reggie and other called him a freak, a psycho, a looser; ugly, weirdo, not human. He did not want to let them see how scared he was when they pushed him around, how painful it was when they pushed his sore body around after a bad night with his dad. He had to suck it up, come up with a snarky comment, put on a brave face to show that it didn’t affect him. Even though it twisted his stomach in knots.  
He pretended he didn’t care that he was the school freak, and he really barely did when he had Archie by his side; the beautiful ginger who would always stick up for him. But Archie had practically ignored him since the beginning of school. Every time they crossed paths and Archie barely looked at him, Jughead felt his heart sink in his chest. Today more than even, Jughead would feel the sting of having lost his family, his rock; the one person that kept him afloat all those years.  
As Jughead finished getting ready through gritted teeth, he prayed that Archie would remember him today.  
***  
At lunch time, after a painful morning, Jug sat on the furtest table he could find on campus despite the lousy temperature. He had crossed Archie's path twice today, but all he got from him was that same awkward smile. He did not even remember what day it was. That’s how much he had moved on past their friendship. Jug had stupidly hoped that he could not forget such a thing, thought that he couldn’t possibly be that lost in his newfound womanizer and jock life to forget his best friend. The first moment Archie had glanced at him without saying anything today, not even asking about Jug's absence in first period, it felt like the last shard in his heart broke.  
Betty had come up to him during the break between second and third period, her face full of concern and care. Her soft voice was comforting in the sea of hostility: Juggie, if you need to talk or get away today, I'm here. I miss you.  
It made him unbearably happy for a moment. He even accepted a brief hug before pulling away, pretending to hate hugs with a snarky comment. In reality, he was terrified of breaking down in tears in the middle of the corridor.  
-Hey Jug...  
Jug startled and broke away from his thoughts at the sound of Archie's awkward voice. His stomach twisted nervously.  
-You doing okay?  
As he briefly glanced at Archie, Jughead could immediately see the guilt on his face. Betty must have talked to him.  
-Can I sit..? - Archie asked with hesitation  
Jugs eye's squinted. He felt his heart pounding in his chest; excitement mixed with anger, grief and a strange sense of shame.  
-Don’t you have some girls to run after?  
-Still so funny , eh – Archie tentatively teased.  
Jughead did not react, staring blankly ahead of him. Archie hesitantly sat down next to him, and Jughead couldn’t refrain from shivering. He hoped Archie didn't notice.  
\- Did you see that new girl in town... maybe you saw her, she's from New York – Archie rambled uncomfortably, trying to make conversation.  
-No – Jughead cut him short, cringing.  
Those were Archie's first real words to him in weeks. And of course, they had to be about some girl.  
-How've you been?  
-Fantastic.  
It felt good to be so close to Archie; he could smell his sunny skin and was intensely aware of the arm brushing against his. He almost wanted to pretend they were friends again, like nothing had changed, so he could truly enjoy this moment.  
The silence dragged on - they both awkwardly stared ahead.  
-Dude, hm, I'm really sorry.. About everything. And today... I should have talked to you earlier.  
Jug did not know what to answer. The words warmed his heart immensely, but at the same time, he felt deeply hurt by them. The lump in his trump seemed to grow.  
Archie awkwardly coughed.  
-Hm well if you are hungry, we go could to Pop's after school? You know, like old times..  
-No thanks.  
-Okay... I guess you are not hungry today, eh...  
Another silence. Jughead's heart pounded in his chest. He hoped his face did not betray the way he felt. He always struggled with emotions, feeling like they were inappropriate.  
They both stared ahead, and Archie awkwardly put a hand of Jug's shoulder. Despite his efforts to remain cool, Jughead shuddered and shook his hand off.  
-I, hm, Im gonna head back inside for class, but call me if you need, you know, to like, talk or something.  
Jug felt a sudden surge of desperate anger fill his chest. Tears prickled his eyes as he turned to glare at his old friend.  
-What, because Betty reminded you of my mother's death anniversary, you suddenly remember I exist!?  
Jug was surprised by his own harsh tone and by the hurt look he shot at Archie. He did not expect so much bitterness to surface – he must pass for a jealous freak.  
He quickly stood up, hoping to make a runfor it before Archie saw him blush or noticed his tear-filled eyes. He was embarrassing himself.  
-Jug wait.. I'm really sorry.  
Archie grabbed his arm, pulling Jug back towards him, tucking his shirt down in the process. As Jug collar moved, the bruises on his neck appeared in full glory.  
-Wow Jug what the fuck!?  
Jug blushed aggressively. Archie's eyes looked suddenly sad, his face filling with an expression of guilt. For a moment, Jughead's heart sank and he was overcome by a desire, or rather a need, to collapse in his arms.  
-Oh fuck, Jug... Fuck. He strangled you?! - Archie seemed panicked, his mouth dropping open in disbelief.  
-I'm fine. And fuck you – Jug's voice was shaking. A veil of tears blurred his vision.  
-Jug...  
Archie held on to Jugs arm, staring at him with a mixture of worry and sadness. Jug scoffed, wiping his eyes with his sleeve – Got to go.  
-Jug wait... come home with me.  
-I don’t need your pity Arch.  
-Its not like that.  
-Then what?! You've ignored me for months, forgot about today, but now we are having a stupid special date because my mom slit her wrists and my asshole father beat the shit out of me?!  
Jughead couldn't control his words, nor could he keep a tear from rolling down his cheek. He stared at Archie, trembling, fists clenched as thoughts and feelings rushed through his head.  
Jug realized with panic that he was losing control of his mask.  
Archie quickly stood up from the table and attempted to pull Jughead into an embrace. Jug pushed him away with both hands, suppressing a sob.  
– Fuck you Archie! - he screamed with a trembling voice.  
At the very moment where he was about to break down completely, Reggie's harsh voice came up behind them.  
-Whoa looser, having a psycho breakdown cause your boyfriend left you?  
Startled, they both turn around to face a smirking Reggie, two of his friends standing behind him.  
-Fuck off Reg! - Jug barked at him with anger.  
He was definitely not in the mood to put up with his crap. The surge of conflicting feelings gave him unusual energy.  
-What the fuck's your problem, you mental freak?  
Reggie took a menacing step towards Jughead. Before he realized what he was doing, Jug took a swing at him. Reggie avoided his punch and came back with rage, knocking Jughead in the nose.  
As Jug stumbled back and fell on the ground, ears ringing, Archie angrily dove towards Reggie, pushing him to the ground with a solid punch.  
Jughead's vision blurred from the shock. For a few seconds, he lost his groundings, before the rush of pain from his nose shook him back to reality. Covering his bleeding nose with a shaking hand, he tried to get to his feet, but couldn't stand up immediately. He could see Reggie's friends were about jump on him, which filled him with panic. As the fight between Reggie and Archie intensified and the football coach's voice angrily screamed at them from afar, he managed to scramble up and make a run for it.  
Disappearing behind the bleachers after an agonizing sprint, Jughead collapsed on his knees, breaking into heavy sobs and gasping for air through his bloodied mouth.  
He couldn't take this anymore. It was too much. As his sobs grew louder and louder, Jughead felt like he was falling apart, loosing control of the indifferent appearance he tried so hard to keep up. This time, he was screwed. 


	3. Chapter 3

Overcome with guilt and worry, Archie scrambled to his feet as soon as the coach angrily separated them. Ignoring his scowling and the trouble he would get in, he rushed off to find Jughead, running towards the bleachers as the « Andrews, Come back here!» echoed in his ears.  
All this time, he had been a shitty person, and an even shittier friend. Archie could barely believe his own selfishness. His heart pounded at the thought of seeing Jughead so fragile and so upset, about to break down. Jughead who always hid his feelings so well, who would rather suffer for days in silence than let his friends help him out for a minute. His friend who had been through hell and back, who had by far the shittiest life from everyone around, but never complained. Archie was afraid of all the things Jug had never told him; seeing what was going on the surface had been bad enough.  
Although others would not notice the slight changes in Jughead’s behavior, Archie could usually tell when he was having a bad day. Jug would be more silent than usual, paler and slightly on edge, even jumpy. Archie would sometimes notice a slight tremor in his hands.  
Or that look in his eye; fleeting fear quickly transformed into sarcasm. Only Archie noticed, maybe sometimes Betty, but he never knew what to say. Trying to talk to Jughead about his problems or feelings was like talking to a stone wall. He barely ever tried anymore, as he felt that Jughead was annoyed by him trying.  
As Archie desperately looked around the bleachers, a random memory sprung to his mind. The last time he had tried to help Jug out. A few months ago, days before the infamous roadtrip night, Jug hadn’t showed up at school. Archie had tried to call him, but all he got was a text at the end of the day: busy, doing business for dad.  
When Jug came in the next day, Archie had been shocked by how glum he looked. He had a big cut on his lip, and the bags under his eyes seemed darker and more swollen than usual. The only thing he managed to get out of him all morning was a mumble: Got a cold, didn’t sleep. Archie had stared at him through all the morning classes, noticing his hand shaking when trying to write, as well as the absent-minded look in his tired eyes.  
Jug had been silent all through lunch time as well, barely touching his food at lunch time, which was unusual even for a bad day. Keven had angrily snapped at him when he had ignored his question about a paper that was due:  
\- Dude, you being an extra weirdo again, what’s wrong with you? You look like garbage.  
Jug did not look up from his plate. No witty remark came out of his mouth.  
Betty and Archie exchanged a quick glance; something was up with Jug. Keven waved his fork in his face.  
\- Hello, Norman bates?  
Jug abruptly tensed and his hand jerked, spilling the can of cola in front of him. An awkward silence set around the table and he just got up without a word, leaving the table without looking at anyone.  
Betty shot a concerned look at Archie, signaling him to go after Jug. Archie had rushed to his feet to follow Jug who had just left the cafeteria. As he caught up with him in the corridor, he grabbed his shoulder. Jug abruptly tensed and shouted with a breaking voice: Don’t touch me!  
Archie had stopped dead in his tracks, caught off-guard by his friend’s unusual response as Jug hurried away in the hallway. He could have sworn he saw his eyes glimmer with tears during the quick second he had turned around.  
Later that night, Jug came through his window with a simple - hey. Jug avoided to look Archie in the eyes and simply sat down on the couch – Mario kart? Archie knew better than to say something about what had happened that day. They had played video games, not saying a word. After an hour had passed, Jug had shot a sideway glance at Archie – It is okay if I crash?  
The usual routine, only with a heavier mood than usual. Archie had left the room to shower, quickly realizing he forgot his towel. As he opened the door, he caught Jughead taking his shirt off, his back to the door. Archie jumped as he spotted what looked like multiple cigarette burns on one of his shoulder blades.  
\- Jug…?  
Jughead jerked and spun around; Dude, the fuck, you scared me!  
\- Are those... cigarette burns?  
\- Dude, you’re on crack. Do you have a shirt I can borrow?  
Archie stared at him for a few seconds: Just take anything. And you know you can talk to me, right, Juggie?  
Jug attempted to smirk, but Archie could spot a pained look in his eyes.  
\- Don’t be such a girl Andrews.  
The conversation had ended there. Archie kept his mouth shut as usual, as he knew Jug’s worst fear was to go back foster care, where he had been bullied constantly.  
After they went to sleep that night, Archie on the bed and Jug on the matress on the floor as usual, Archie was woken up by Jug's moaning. This was not the first time that Jug had nightmares, jerking and wincing in his sleep. Although that night, he woke up with a scream a few minuts after Archie woke up to his moaning, sitting straight up and panting loudly, seemingly terrorized.  
\- Dude, you okay?  
\- Yeah, yeah, Im fine, sorry, sorry.  
Jug sat with his head between his hands, breathing heavily. Letting Archie see that which was very unusual for him; it must have been a hell of a nightmare. Archie slowly moved from the bed to the mattress on the ground, and put an arm around Jug. He was drenched in sweat, and slightly shaking. Surprisingly, he didn’t pushed Archie away.  
They both hadn’t ushered a word, and laid back down after a minute or two, once Jug’s breathing returned to normal. It was the first time in ages they fell asleep in the same bed, just like they had done when they were younger.  
Archie could still feel the tension in his body remembering how he had woken up early that morning; Jug’s back against his chest, his arm around Jugs body, Jugs hand on his arm. The panic he felt when he realised he had an erection, quickly jumping back in his bed, hoping Jug hadn’t felt it…  
Those feelings tightened Archie’s chest as he left the bleachers to head back inside the school, hoping he would find Jug somewhere in there. He had to get past his fears, had to bury those feelings, those feelings from which he run away from… The feelings that had cost him his best friend as he had desperately tried to stay away from Jughead after the infamous road trip night.  
All that mattered to him now was to find him, to hold him, to apologize. How the fuck could he have been such an asshole?!

 

Hearing people approaching the bleachers, Jughead swallowed his sobs, trying to muffle them with his hand. He crawled away from the bleachers and got to his feet. He could barely stand, his head pounding and dizzy. His thoughts were going crazy, spinning so much he felt nauseous. He needed to get away from Archie, from his embarrassment at how pathetic he had just been. The looser friend desperately clinging to his popular friend who had obviously forgotten about him; he was a pain for everyone around him.  
His thoughts wandered to his sister Jellybean, whom her mom had send off to her aunt shortly after her birth. Maybe he could go there? He definitely could not stay home; he needed to grab his things and go. Anywhere. He felt like he could not take another single hit or he would break.  
If there had ever been a breaking point, this was it.  
Jug gathered what felt like the last bits of his strength, wiped his tears and scurried away. He was confident that his father would be at work; the perfect time to pack his bags and leave for good, or at least for a few weeks until he caught his breath. A bus ticket to the next city, the next State; all he could cling on right on was the desperate need to escape everything. And to not have to face Archie's pity for his pathetic ass.  
There was nothing left for him here.  
The walk home was painful, and he had to stop a few times to gather his breath, wincing in pain as he leaned against a door frame or a fence. The need to leave was all that kept him going.  
As his reached his door, Jug hurried in, ready to pack his things in under a minute. As he stepped in the living room, he stopped dead in his tracks, his heart skipping a beat: his father was there, already drunk with two of his serpent friends.  
Panicked, Jughead froze in place. He glanced back at the door, looking for an escape. A large tattoed man got out of the kitchen, blocking his way.  
Painfully swallowing, Jug glanced back at his father.  
\- The fuck happened to your nose? Getting beat up? Jesus Christ, stand up for yourself, fuckin looser.  
F.P. looked at him with disgust. Jughead’s hands tightened around the straps of his bag. His fingers fidgeted nervously.  
\- Uh I just, it was during gym…  
F.P. frowned, cutting him off abruptly.  
\- We need you to run an errand.  
Jug knew what that could mean. Drug deals, risking getting caught or worse, getting beaten to death. He’d been coerced into it before, and escaped by the skin of teeth, with cigarette burns on his shoulders as he had delivered the wrong sum to an angry mobster. He had nothing from his bad boy’s father and the thought of dealing again him shiver with fear. He could still feel the sizzle of the cigarette on his skin as he was pinned down by two aggressive bikers who menaced to kill him if he didn’t bring back the balance. When he came back with it after a deseperate night in fear of his life haunting for his father's collegues to get the remaining balance, they had kicked him in the ribs until he threw up at their feet, and had a ball pissing and spitting all over him.  
\- I,I have to go back to school, I just came to grab something for a project, its being evaluated, I have to go back…  
Jughead rambled on, feeling his mouth getting dry.  
F.P. put his glass down and took two steps towards his son. Jug shivered as his dad got close enough to notice his swollen eyes. The overpowering whiskey smell made him nauseous.  
\- Fuck’s sake, you’ve been crying like a girl. The fuck is wrong with you. And take the stupid hat off.  
Jug ducked as his dad aggressively rips the hat off his head, slapping his head as Jug tried to protect himself with a trembling hand. He felt even more helpless, staring at the floor, not daring to look back at his dad.  
\- I, I really have to go back.. They’re gonna fail me.  
F.P. leaned towards Jug, his boozy breath spitting at him. Stay brave, stay calm, stay brave, stay calm, he thought to himself…  
Jug kept staring at the floor, overpowered by nausea and his pounding heart.  
\- I said, you will run an errand. Open your fuckin bag. Martin will go with you. Stop being a fuckin pussy.  
\- Yeah, no problem. Ill just, Ill come back after class…  
Before Jug could react, F.P. suddenly grabbed his arm and twisted it violently behind his back.  
\- Ahhh!!!  
\- Your embarrassing me, you pathetic fuck!  
J.P. tightened his grip, twisting harder and harder until Jug thought his arm was breaking. He whimpered, eyes watery and lips trembling.  
\- Plea-ase, da-ad. Ill do it, ill do it now.  
His voice was breaking, as the pain in his twisted arm was agonizing.  
\- Shut the fuck up or ill break your arm, do you hear me. Look at me. LOOK AT ME.  
\- F.P. you’re gonna break his arm – One of the Serpent shouted with an uneasy and alarmed tone.  
Jug glanced at him with pleading eyes, his face white as a sheet contorted in pain. He was convinced his arm was already broken.  
\- Ahhhhhh-haaaa ahhhh  
F.P. violently let go of his arm and grabbed his face, fingers digging in his cheeks as he slammed him against the wall. The pressure on Jug’s nose rushed tears down his face. Sobs escaped his lips as his entire body burned with pain. He could no longer feel his arm.  
\- F.P, stop, he’s just a kid!  
\- Got something to say?! – F.P. angrily barked at his college before turning back to his son.  
\- Stop crying! Pull yourself together, for fuck sakes – he screamed as he shook Jug’s face, his fingers pressing so hard in his cheeks that Jug could feel his jaw contort. F.P. slammed his head against the wall once again.  
Jughead breathes with difficulty, loud panicked breaths mixed with sobs as his vision blurred. His arms pathetically tried to push his father away, to no avail.  
\- Come on, let him go… He’s your son man!  
\- F.P., stop!  
Just as suddenly as he gripped him, F.P. let go of him, growling at his colleagues: Shut the fuck up, grab the stuff!  
Jughead felt like he was about to collapse. His knees were shaking, his head was spinning and pounding. He could see the two serpents through his blurry eyes as he looked at them in sheer panic, begging for help; they both looked away. He struggled to swallows his sobs, choking on them as he tensed in fear of what will come next.  
\- You fuck this up, and I will kill you myself. Do you hear me?  
\- Ye-es  
F.P. punched the wall an inch from his head, cutting Jughead’s breath short as his body contracted in fear.  
\- DO YOU HEAR ME?!  
\- Yes, yes!  
\- Fuck off now. – F.P. grunts as he threw a bag to one of his colleagues. Martin, you go with him, make sure he doesn’t fuck it up. Jones got a reputation to maintain.  
Jughead struggled to get out the door as fast as he can, his dad’s colleagues on his heels. He fought to repress sobs and control his shaking, desperately trying to pull it together, not knowing what the large tattooed man would do if he doesn’t. He needed to get this done, and run for his life. He wont grab his things, he wont turn back…  
\- Kid, if you need a place to crash, your welcome to mine. You look like absolute shit.  
Surprised, Jug shot a quick glance at the Serpent who put a hand on his shoulder.  
\- Um, than-thanks  
\- Ive got a freaking pool man, once this deal is closed, Im gonna put a fuckin spa Im telling you – Martin rambled on as they made their way.  
Two endless street corners later, Jug stumbled in the street, overcome by a wave of pain. The pain in his stomach from yesterday’s beating, the pain in his nose and his head was overwhelming; Martin reached out to support him as his vision went blurry again. He could no longer put a foot in front of the other, feeling like a helpless child, a pathetic looser.  
\- I cant… I cant… I cant walk…  
A sudden nausea overcame him and before he could anticipate it, he threw up at his feet.  
Martin gently stroked his back while supporting him, as Jughead emptied his guts on the pavement.  
\- Lets take a break, come on. Your dad is a piece of shit. And your heads bleeding.  
Jug struggled to catch his breath as he felt himself collapsing. He had no choice but to allow himself to lean against Martin as they turn a dark corner and step into an alleyway.  
\- Come on, your okay kiddo, Ill make you feel better.  
Rats scurried away at their feet as they reached a few empty wooden boxes.  
\- Sit down here.  
Martin took out a handkerchief and handed it to Jug. As Jug shakingly wiped his mouth, he felt a small glimmer of hope that he might pull through this day and get the hell out of here. Thank fuck the guy seemed to be a decent person.  
\- Thanks.  
The Serpent sat beside him, his hand gently taping his thigh as Jughead attempted to gather his strength. This was one of the worst beatings he went through: they were usually more spaced out, and he could usually lay down after a beating and try to sleep it off. Moving was excruciating.  
\- Your okay kiddo.  
\- Im sorry, Ill be good to go soon.  
\- Take your time.  
\- I don’t know why Im so… it’s a bad day, it was a bad night.. I just need a minute.  
A few seconds of silence dragged on, and Jug almost felt safe. At least he wouldn’t get cigarette burns this time with the Serpent to accompany him.  
\- Im almost good, lets get this done…  
\- We got a lil time, you know.  
Martin hands started to wander up Jug’s thigh.  
\- Come on, I know what’s gonna make you feel better…  
Jugs heart pounded in his chest. He could’t move, pain and fear paralysing him into place. This couldn’t be happening.  
Martin hand reached his buckle.  
\- You’ll like it, I promise.  
Jug’s head was spinning as he desperately tried to react, assessing how to escape. His uncles face sprung to his mind, sending an additional wave of panic through his body.  
\- No, please, please, I really cant take it… please  
Jug tried to wiggle away, but got so dizzy his vision went blank. Flashes of light appeared before his eyes as he felt Martin untying his buckle. His trembling hands tried to stop him to no avail as his chest constricted. He seemed to have lost all strength, as if paralysed in a nightmare.  
\- Sh, calm down, it’ll make you feel better.  
Martin got up and pulled his pants down, revealing a large erect penis.  
\- Nice, eh?  
Jughead felt like he was about to faint as he blindly stared at Martin. He needed to move, run, fast. Martin chuckled.  
\- I see you’re impressed  
Jug suddenly tried to scurry to his feet, a wave of paniqued energy shooting through him. Before he could scramble to his feet, Martin abruptly pinned him down on the empty boxes.  
\- Please, please, stop. – Jug begged through tears, desperately gathering his last strength to resist. His wiggles felt completely useless.  
\- You know you want it, don’t resist. I know you’re queer, kid. I see the way you look at me  
\- No-o – was all Jug managed to say as his pants and underwear got pulled down to his knees in one rapid move.  
\- Playing hard to get, eh. Just let yourself enjoy it – Martin grinned as he took out a pack of lube with one hand, pinning Jugs arms above his head with his other hand.  
Panic transformed into helplessness as Jug felt the tip of the man’s penis rubbing against him. Its over. He squeezed his eyes shut, praying for a miracle as tears rolled down his cheeks and he sobbed in despair.  
\- Your a cute fucker, you know that. \- Ple-ase…  
As Martin started to penetrate him, Jug's felt like his soul shut off.  
As the pounding got harder and harder, Martin grunting and going at him without mercy, Jughead felt himself ripping in agonizing pain, sending a last screaming cry in the empty alleyway.


End file.
